Tag: humor

Knock On Wood

Daily writing prompt
Are you superstitious?
View all responses

Knock on wood, I am not superstitious. I’ve owned three wonderful black cats in Crystal, Sam, and Boo. Each gave me nothing but purrs and good company.

Of course, I do respect that others are superstitious. That affects things. So, for them, I throw salt over my shoulder when I spill it. With many affected by Friday the 13th, I know that many people are a little more distracted and nervous, so I’m a little more careful and alert.

Sure, I do have my lucky underwear, but that’s not superstition. I’ve observed the cause and effect of having them on. I only wear them when extra luck is needed these days because the elastic waistband is worn out and its cotton material has grown as sheer as a silk negligee. The light blue boxers also have a couple holes torn in them from getting a toe ripping through the material when I was putting them on. My wife wants me to throw them away but come on, that would surely be temping the gods to do that.

I do wear a pen on my shirt, but that’s not superstition. I’m a writer and the pen is a talisman to enhance my creativity and prevent writer’s block. What fiction writer would turn that down?

Also, I don’t walk under ladders just as a matter of safety and common sense. Someone could be doing something up there, drop it, and bonk me on the head.

And that would be bad luck.

0

Don’t Call Me Late For Dinner

Daily writing prompt
Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?
View all responses

Well, I suppose I would compare myself to common, lowly housefloofs. Basically, a floof is an animal, bird, fish, or reptile. A housefloof is then one of those critters living with humans, even if their accomodations aren’t an actual ‘house’.

I say that I’m a housefloof based on my observations of housefloofs residing with me. Those were cats and dogs. My typical housefloofs were creatures of comfort who enjoyed lazing in sunshine, periodically apparently thinking themselves into a doze. This is something which I also do, although I’ll often have a book in my hand and will read myself into a doze. I have seen animals with books, newspapers, and magazines; they enjoy sleeping on them. I’ve yet to witness any housefloof holding a book. I suppose they could be waiting until I’m not around to pick up a book. They do the same with my computer, logging on when I’m not using it, trying to order themselves things from the net. How else can some of the things delivered to our door be explained?

The other thing about housefloofs which I’ve noticed which cements my comparison to one of ’em is their interest in food. They can be sound asleep — or so convincingly pretending to be that I can’t tell they’re awake — when a can, bag, or refrigerator is opened. Then, pop! Their eyes open. They sit up and look up, orienting their senses with precision: “I hear food; there it is.” Some are so adept at this, they react to the sound, leap up, and dash to the food before awakening. I swear, one cat became so good at this whole thing that she picked up our intentions to get something to eat and was there to greet us when we entered the kitchen.

I can honestly say that I’m quite like those housefloofs. I hear the ‘frig open or a bag. Click; hello, what’s that noise? I seek out my other to see, “What are you eating? What do you have?” And like my housefloofs, I’ll sometimes try to surreptitiously seize a share and scurry away.

Sometimes, though, like the housefloofs, I’m disappointed by the result, and sulk away to resume my previous activity.

0

Well, I’ll Be Damned

Daily writing prompt
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
View all responses

I read aloud.

“Hello, old man! If you’re reading this letter, then you made it: you’re 100 years old! Congratulations to you.

“Or, congratulations to me, I should say. I set you up for your success, right? Come on, give me credit. I’m the one who signed the contracts, took the money, made the payments.

“Yes, there are some downsides. You should be 100 years old but you’re probably not living on Earth. Part of the agreement, right? I have no idea which planet you ended up settling, either. That’s one reason why you’re getting a preserved paper letter. If you’re reading this, you remember all of this. It’ll be as real to you as it is to me. And you know all the details. Hell, biologically, you’re younger than me now, because they gave you a new body, assuming they lived up to their end of the agreement. You should now be 25 biologically, which, yes, you know. Yes, you’ll be another color; you won’t be white. Small price, right? They weren’t sure whether you would be blue or green. Said both of those were possible with our genes. Wish you could write me back and tell me.

“Hard to write this. I know things but you know them, too. But I write to think, to make sense of it all. I never expected the things to happen which did. The war. Getting frozen. Sent to storage in space, then returned to Earth. I mean, as you know, I know these things, but it’s all abstract to me. Happened to me but I wasn’t conscious of it. Not this version of — well, yeah, you know.”

I stopped reading then. I knew what the letter said. I just wrote it yesterday. Realizations were creeping up. I’m a slow thinker but I usually get there.

So I took in the shimmering individual standing before me. Gorgeous guy. Blue. Azure. Well built. So tall, his thick, glossy black hair brushed the room’s ceiling.

“You’re me,” I said. “But you don’t look anything like me.”

He snorted. “Yes, I know. I’ve seen myself and I see you now, along with the old photos of you. They gave me options to change my appearance and I took them.”

“I see.” I smiled.

“I mean, wouldn’t you?”

“I probably would. Well, I did, because you’re me and…anyway. So, you made it. I made it. We made it.”

“Oh, yes. It’s quite a future, so improved over this. And you wanted to know what color we’d be, so….” He shrugged.

“You came back to show me.”

He grinned. “Bingo. Well, mostly. I also came back to thank you.”

Stepping forward, he offered me his huge hand. “I don’t want to get mushy, but thank you. Thank you for having the fortitude to persevere. Thank you for the decisions you made and supporting the science. Thank you for trusting it.”

Setting the letter I’d written to my hundred-yead-old self onto the desk, I stood and shook his hand. “You’re welcome.”

2

Munda’s Theme Music

We’re rockin’ into a new work, children, hustling toward spring in Ashlandia. It’s Munda, March 10, 2025. Sunshine highlights clouds stretched thin and silvery against a weak blue sky and misty green mountains. 38 F now, but 60 is possible. We poked 66 yesterday, and it was lovely. Air felt fresh but cool, and the sunshine offered a warm counterbalance.

Called Transitions, which is the place coordinating my custom-made compression socks. The right one still hasn’t been received so I wanted to see if they can provide any tracking info or insights into why. Ordered 2/19/25, my physio expected it by Feb.’s end. We’re in limbo with my treatment until that puppy comes in. Basically, I’m done with the massage therapy when it is received, as this is a ‘maintenance’ sock to help my body cope with lymphedema. The Transitions individual responsible for my case is out so her pleasant, accomodating supervisor took the info, passed it on, and told me to expect a call back tomorrow.

Today’s song comes from a 2023 television series. I’m re-watching The Last of Us. Bella Ramsey and Pedro Pascal star in this dystopian series about a zombie issue. Twenty years after the breakout, he’s taking her across the depleted U.S. because she may have the answer to a cure/vaccine, as she seems immune.

Yesterday’s episode introduced us to Bill, played by Nick Offerman. Bill is a misogynistic prepper. Living alone, intelligent and well armed, he’s set up a compound where he can live free from zombie attacks and outsiders. After a few years, along comes Frank (Murray Bartlett), a survivor trying to make it to Boston. Bill feeds Frank and the two become lovers and a couple. It’s such a sweet, sweet story, and my favorite episode.

A Linda Rondstadt song, “Long Long Time”, is the couple’s song. The Neurons appreciated the 1970 song and kept it alive in the morning mental music stream.

Hope you have someone who helps you carry on through the days.

Coffee has met my taste buds and our daily romance continues. Have the best day possible. Cheers

0

Call Me Dwayne

Daily writing prompt
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
View all responses

My first name is Michael. My middle name is Wayne.

But that isn’t what was planned.

“Why did you name me Michael Wayne?” I asked Mom. I was looking for a story about why those names were selected, thinking something inspired my name.”

“I didn’t,” Mom said. “Your father did.”

“What?”

“I’d just given birth and I was out of it. He filled out the paperwork and named you. That’s not what I wanted.”

“What did you want?”

“You were supposed to be Dwayne Richard.”

“Dwayne Richard? Why?” And also, “Rick’s name is Richard Dwayne.” That seemed like a weird part of the puzzle. Richard Dwayne is my cousin, born a month before me.

Mom nodded. “I told your Aunt Jean that I wanted to name you Dwayne Richard. She stole it and named her son Richard Dwayne.”

Wild. I later asked Dad, “Why’d you name me Michael Wayne?”

“I didn’t.”

“Mom said you did.”

“I named you what she told me to.”

“That’s not what she said.”

“She probably doesn’t remember. She was pretty out of it. Listen, you know your mother. Do you really think I wouldn’t do exactly what she told me to do?”

I never got any satisfying reason for why my middle or first name was chosen. It’s just is what it is.

14

Frieda’s Wandering Thoughts

It seems to me that it’s strange to go to a coffee shop, plug in a game, and sit there, playing a few hours. I mean, I can see sitting there reading a book. That makes complete sense, as does doing homework and studying. I’m puzzled by those who come in, plug in, and watch movies or videos for hours. Of course, I also know what an energy suck that games, movies, and videos can be.

Then again, others probably find it strange for me to go to a coffee shop less than two miles from home, set up a computer and then spend hours there in pursuit of writing. I know from riding others’ blogs that some people find it pretentious.

I defend my writing with extenuating circumstances. Bet the rest can make the same defense. Bottom line, it’s all just as legitimate, normal, and natural in today’s tech world, so just get over it, boomer.

7

Playin’ Favorites

Daily writing prompt
What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
View all responses

I so dislike questions about my favorite. I don’t care about the object: book, pie, food, beer, wine, music, movie…you get it. I don’t declare absolute favorites. I can’t speak for others but IMO, my favorites often slide along a spectrum that’s driven by mood and, or, circumstances. Sometimes memories float up and a song comes on, such as Tom Petty, “Running Down A Dream”, and I think, yes, this is my favorite song. But in another place and time, another song, such as “Us and Them” by Pink Floyd, or “Zombie” by The Cranberries or “Get It On”, is played and it strikes the note for the moment, finding a bit of sympatico with my soul.

I swing the same way with food and beverages. While I have regulars I turn to, they’re not necessarily the favorite. Same with movies — “Unforgiven”, “Bladerunner”, “This Is Spinal Tap”, “Men In Black” — and books — “Catch 22”, “Catcher In the Rye”, “Lincoln in the Bardo”, or series like the Murder Bots or Chronicles of Amber. Novels…authors…genres…

If I have an absolute favorite in anything, it’s

0

Thirstda’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife was stewing. “Papi changed his routine today. For some reason, he suddenly wanted outside at 4:22, more than two hours before his usual time. I don’t know what’s going on but there he was, scratching on the door, yipping at me because he couldn’t wake you up.”

Between us, I had been awakened but ignored the floofcas Papi was causing because I didn’t want to get up.

I thought of the reasons why Papi the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt, changed his hours. May have been a bowel movement thing. Papi prefers to use the outdoors as his toilet, frequenting the area by the fence behind the bushes.

But, him being a cat, perhaps he heard noises outside and felt a need to investigate. Conversely, maybe he realized the noises were coming from inside the house and decided that the outside was safer.

Other ideas are possible. Flooflight savings time may have kicked in. From what I understand from floofotologists, floofs are notoriously independent about FST. Each decides when they’ll switch over — or if they won’t switch at all. Often, though, once one floof changes to FST, other housefloofs do the same. After all they don’t want to miss out by falling an hour behind their floofmate, cause food. They’d rather get up an hour early rather than missing out on food.

I can respect that.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑